Harry Potter and the Song of Fate
by The Potions Mistress
Summary: 5th year. Voldemort has risen and Aurors are dying mysteriously. Harry has a strange recurring dream, and the Order of the Phoenix meets again. Eventually OC/Draco, OC/Lupin, R/Hr. Please read!
1. Auorelia's Daughters

Disclaimer:  I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter characters mentioned in this fic, with the exception of Miranda and Quinn McAllister, who I created.  (I also created some personalities to go along with characters JK created but didn't give more than names to.)

**A Bit About this Fic:  **This is my first-ever lengthy HP fic, and by golly I intend to finish it.  (You all can help by sending reviews and such.  It's very encouraging.)  I just want to say that this fic is kind of stand-aloneish.  Let me explain.  It takes place right where GOF left off, and I've made the trio age 15, so technically it could be considered my version of Book 5, but I really don't want it to be viewed that way.  For this reason I did not title it "Order of the Phoenix" although it does concern this organization and my ideas of what it is.  So what I'm trying to say is basically this:  I had some ideas swirling around my head, I'm sick of waiting for JK to pump out "Order" (though if it's good, she can take _all _the time she needs) and I felt like writing them down. Also, I'm not JKR, so it won't be exactly in her style, or as painstakingly detailed as she writes.  (I still marvel at how she does it.)

**About Miranda and Quinn:  **They are **NOT** Mary Sues.  I promise you.  If it seems like they are turning out that way, please _please _let me know so that I may mend the situation post haste.  I can't stand Mary Sues, and wouldn't want to subject my readers to that.  If you think they're Mary Sue-ish after reading this chapter, just give them a chance until about chapter 3 and then tell me if you think that.  

Ok, now that I've sufficiently bored everyone, here's the fic!  Enjoy! 

Harry Potter and the Song of Fate.

By The Potions Mistress 

Chapter 1:  Aurelia's Daughters.

"Am I standing still, with the scenery flying by?" 

_-Jewel_

            The rain fell in torrents on the roof of the carriage.  Miranda watched the lamp swing dangerously back and forth from the celing as they rambled down the country road.  She sighed.  She and her sister, Quinn, had been rocking much like the lamp for over 3 hours.  Somehow, Quinn had managed to fall asleep and was calmly curled in a ball on the seat across from Miranda, her brown hair cascading over her face, her glasses tucked carefully in her hand.

            _She looks so peaceful, _thought Miranda.  _Please let it stay that way…_

Her thoughts wandered as her eyes drifted to the window.  The water came down in sheets and looked as though it would never stop.  A breeze from the cool evening swept into the carriage and Miranda wrapped her woolen blanket tightly around her shoulders.  Amazing how a thunderstorm could make even August cold.

            Three days ago, she sat home in Ireland.  Three days ago, Quinn was happily anticipating her fifth year at Sean McMurphy's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Three days ago, Miranda had a well-adjusted family, a boyfriend who loved her, and a future as clear as crystal.  Now everything was confused, mixed up and broken.  Nothing made sense to Miranda.  She still didn't understand what happened and neither did Quinn.  All she knew was that she was on a bumpy muddy road in the English countryside to see a man she had not since she was a child.

            The fifteen-year-old across from her stirred and stretched her arms above her head.  Quinn twisted herself into an upright position, smoothed her hair, and replaced her black-rimmed glasses over squinting eyes.  "Are we almost there?" she asked softly.

            "It shouldn't be too long now," replied Miranda.  "I know this isn't the best place to sleep."

            Quinn simply nodded and stared at the wet rolling landscape outside the window.  Miranda's gaze remained fixed on her sister, eyes pausing on her glasses.  They were broken on the floor when Miranda came home and found her, huddled in a corner of the house, terrified of some unknown fear.  Aidan swore that nothing was wrong but Miranda couldn't believe that.  Especially not after Quinn started…

            "Did you have it?" asked Miranda suddenly.

            Quinn's attention snapped from the window.  "Have what?"

            "The dream."

            "Oh."  Quinn's face clouded over and her grey eyes dropped to the floor.  "Well, I guess not."  She paused and turned her gaze slowly up to her sister.  "I didn't wake up screaming did I?"  A tiny smile materialized on her face.

            "No, you didn't," answered Miranda.  "You would have given the driver quite a fright if you had."

            Quinn had her McMurphy's cloak tucked around her like a blanket, the green school seal with its fighting leprechaun glowing in the lantern light.  She banged her black boot absentmindedly against the seat.  "Are… are the kids nice at this school?" she asked unsurely.

            Miranda shrugged.  "I don't know," she said.  "I've only been there once, and it wasn't to be educated."  She was a McMurphy grad.

            It was then that Miranda noticed that the road didn't seem as bumpy as it had earlier.  Braving the rain, she stuck her head out the window and was pleased to find the carriage gently rolling on a cobblestone path.

            "Hey, we must be getting close," said Miranda cheerfully.  "We've finally got some signs of civilization."

            Quinn smiled weakly.  Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them away.  They had left everything in Dublin.  

            Reaching over, Miranda squeezed her sister's hand.  "Listen… this sucks… I know… but we're in this together.  No matter what happens, I'll be there."

            Quinn's stiff smile melted into a genuine one.  "I know," she replied.

            Miranda sat back in her seat and resumed watching the scenery pass by.  She hated to do this to Quinn.  Going to him was last on her long list of options that had dwindled very quickly.  There was no other choice.

            A black turret rose in the corner of the window, illuminated against the dark background.  Then the whole tower appeared.  Then a wall.

            "Is that it?" Quinn questioned.

            "That's the place." 

            The castle's magnitude could not be contained by the carriage window.  Dozens of turrets rose up, then out of sight.  The front a giant grey fortification, lit with a dozen lights, appeared next.  The wheels of the carriage made a _whirr whirr_ sound as they crossed the bridge over the lake.  At last, they came to a stop, right in front of a large brown gate.

            The driver, a stout man, opened the passenger door and let the ladies out.  Much to their delight, the rain had slowed to a sparse drizzle.  As the driver unloaded their luggage, Miranda and Quinn gaped at their new home.

            It seemed six miles high, twenty long, with countless passages, towers, windows, and balconies, all menacing in the heavy twilight air.  Quinn stared up at the castle and let out a slow breath.  "I'm going to get lost," she muttered.

            "No you won't," her sister answered.  "I'm here to help you… though I'm not positive what I'm going to be doing while you're in school.  I'm sure the other kids will help you."

            _My optimism is starting to scare me._

            The luggage was all placed on the stone walk.  Miranda paid the driver and the carriage pulled away without another word.  Tucking the cage containing her snoozing cat Cassandra under her arm, she clutched a violin case in one hand and her trunk in the other.  "Be a love and knock on the gate," she told Quinn.

            Quinn tapped the gate with her fist and three hollow _booms _echoed in the courtyard beyond.  Picking up her trunk, Quinn stood with Miranda and waited.  A few moments later, the twin doors split and a man stepped out in front of them.  He was old, his face weathered and wrinkled.  His long stringy hair hung unbrushed around his shoulders, and in his hand, he held a purring brown cat.  "Can I 'elp you?" he asked gruffly, a frown of suspicion crossing his face.

            "Um… well…."  Miranda paused.  What if this wasn't a good idea?  What if he wouldn't agree to take them in?  What if…?  She cleared her throat.  "I'd like to see Albus Dumbledore please," she finished clearly.

            The man curled his lip, bearing yellow teeth.  "And who are you?"

            "Just tell him…"  She turned to her left and looked down on Quinn who stared back with big eyes.  "Just tell him that Aurelia McAllister's daughters have come to call."

*~*~*~*~*

Did you like it?  Harry shows up in the next chapter.  Actually, Quinn and Miranda aren't even mentioned in it. ;)  So please review!  Thanks so much, and the next chapter shall be up shortly.


	2. O Fortuna

Disclaimer:Same as front.

English translations of Latin words are at the bottom of the page.:)

# Chapter 2:O Fortuna

## "It may sound absurd… but don't be naïve,

_Even heroes have the right to bleed._

_I may be disturbed… but won't you concede,_

_Even heroes have the right to dream._

_It's not easy to be me."_

_ _

-_Five for Fighting_

_ _

::: two weeks later :::

Harry Potter had no idea where he was.The darkness around him enveloped him and suffocated him like a blanket.He desperately clawed around him, searching for a wall, a door- anything- but his hands grasped nothing but air.Fearing the worst, he reached into his robes for his wand, only to discover it missing.Harry stood, rooted to his spot, his breaths shallow and fearful.

Eventually, his eyes became accustomed to the darkness.He made out that he was in a medium-sized room with walls made completely of cold stone.Running to one, he felt its wet bricks, searching through the nooks and crannies for some sort of spring that would trigger a door.His hands stopped wandering when he heard a noise in the far corner.

A chill crept from the bottom of Harry's spine to his hairline.He didn't want to turn around, but he knew that there was no avoiding it.

That's when the singing started.

_"O Fortuna"_

The voice was a loud baritone, full and rich, yet something sinister rung in its echoes.

_"Velut luna."_

Harry's very bones felt cold as he backed quickly away from the voice.Two steps and he hit the wall.

_"Statu variabilis."_

A great black shape left the corner, and Harry's heart leaped in his chest.

_"Semper crescis,_

_Aut decrescis."_

The thing crept closer and though it sang like a man, Harry was fairly sure by the way it walked that it wasn't.

_"Vita detestabilis."_

The wall was hard, and his entire body was pressed up against it, shivering as the creature came into focus.

"_Nunc obdurat._

_Et tunc curat,_

_Ludo mentis aciem."_

The voice was now close enough for Harry to see the mouth moving.A monstrous gaping chasm it was, lined with three rows of razor pointed teeth.And it grinned as it advanced.

_"Egestatem,_

_Potestatem._

_Dissolvit ut glaciem."_

Harry opened his mouth to scream but his fear chocked it.The giant jaws were upon him, hovering around his head.He shut his eyes tightly and waited for the pain.He was falling… falling…

Harry woke with a jolt to the blinding golden light that filled the train compartment. 

"Harry, are you all right?"Hermione Granger sat on the seat across from Harry, her brown eyes filled with concern.

"Yeah…" Harry replied, massaging his throbbing temples."I think so."The singing was over, the beast gone, and the Hogwarts Express rumbled under his feet.

"Did you have a nightmare?" asked Ron Weasley, his best friend, who sat next to Hermione."What was it about?"

"Uh…"Harry knew his friends too well:Ron would get frightened and Hermione would worry herself needlessly if he told them."Can't quite remember."

Hermione eyed him with a look that clearly labeled him a liar, but Ron just shrugged."As long as you're ok now.It was just a dream anyway."He picked up a Chocolate Frog from next to him."Want one?"

Harry nodded and Ron tossed the candy to him.Opening its shiny wrapper, he clutched the frog before it could jump away and shoved it in his mouth.Turning over the Famous Witches and Wizards Card inside, he let out a gasp.Staring back at him, his fake eye swiveling aimlessly, was Mad-Eye Moody, Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from the previous year.Of course he had been driven away by some unknown force like all the other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers Harry had had.

Harry turned the card around to show Ron and Hermione."Hey," cried Ron, "I don't have that one!"Harry gave him the card and Hermione shook her head.

"I don't understand how one school can go through so many Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers in so short a time."Hermione crossed her arms.

"Dunno," said Ron."Do you reckon it's jinxed?"

Hermione glared at him."You can jinx a _teaching position_, Ron."

Ron narrowed his eyes."And how would you know that?"

"Because she's Hermione," Harry smiled."If she says it can't be jinxed, it can't be jinxed."

Hermione's cheeks turned scarlet as Ron pouted.Poor Ron was always wrong when Hermione was around

"So who are we gonna scare off this year?" asked Harry.

"Person's gotta be stupid if you ask me," Ron replied bitterly, without looking at Hermione."You couldn't pay me enough to take _that _job."

"It could be Snape," Hermione offered.

"I hope so," said Ron, pocketing his wizard card."There's one I'd like to scare off."

"Well that shouldn't be too hard, Weasley.The state of your robes is frightening enough."

All three turned to the unexpected voice at the door.Draco Malfoy stood behind the threshold, a malevolent smile plastered to his face much like the platinum hair to his head.Behind him, his two troll-like flunkies, Crabbe and Goyle, guffawed at Draco's lame excuse for a joke.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed."Honestly, Malfoy," she said."Do you _have _to come in here and annoy us?Do you even have a reason for being in here?"

"Well it sure as hell isn't to see your ugly face, Granger," Draco replied with a smirk.

Hermione's mouth formed a shocked "O", then closed tightly in anger.Ron was on his feet immediately.A look of concern briefly crossed Draco's face as Ron, who had grown several inches that summer, practically pressed his nose against Draco's."Look, Malfoy," hissed Ron."Just state your business and get going."Ron turned the color of his hair and he fumbled in his robe for something that probably wasn't a Chocolate Frog.

If Harry had blinked, he would have missed Draco's nanosecond of fear."Calm _down, _Weasley," Draco scoffed, brushing past Ron into the compartment."Wouldn't want to give your family any more tragedies than it already has."

Draco smoothed his robes as Ron looked over his shoulder with contempt.Malfoy was the quintessence of a pureblood:obnoxiously wealthy, horrifically cruel, eternally snobbish.His cold gray eyes rested on Harry, his white teeth glowing behind his sneer.

"What?"Harry deadpanned.

"Have you ever considered being… and Auror, Potter?"Draco's look turned faux innocent.

Somewhere deep inside Harry his blood boiled, but he kept it down."Shove off, Malfoy," he spat.

"No really, Potter.I think you'd make a great Auror."Crabbe and Goyle giggled outside the door.

"That's not funny," said Hermione, her eyebrows drawn."It's not funny at all."

"Oh, I'm not being funny, Granger."Draco said, spinning on his heel to face her."I'm completely serious.Boy he'd sure have fun fighting those dark wizards."He chuckled, then became deadly serious."Until they get him too, that is," he hissed, his face glowing."So _powerful, _those Aurors._Nothing _can kill them.They'll _always _be…"

With one swift jerk, Ron grabbed Draco by his robes and threw his from the room.He crashed into Crabbe and Goyle, bouncing off their gigantic forms with a shocked cry.Ron slammed the door to the compartment, and the lock clicked into place."Bastard," he muttered, and dropped onto his seat next to Hermione.

Harry stared at his feet.He put his hand in the pocket inside his robe and closed his fingers around the crumpled paper.Pulling it out, he carefully unfolded it and smoothed it on his lap.

"AUROR FOUND DEAD IN DUBLIN ALLEY," the front page of _The Daily Prophet_ blared.The blurry black and white photo below it showed a lump covered in a white sheet, the dead Auror's body, and several Ministry of Magical Law Enforcement members wandering around, faces grave.

"I'll bet the Ministry's in a going crazy," said Hermione, glancing at Harry's newspaper clipping.

"Are you kidding?" cried Ron."The Ministry's in a tizzy.Even my dad's feeling the effects.They had him stay until three in the morning once."

"Do they have any leads?"Hermione asked, leaning forward.

"Not a one," said Harry, shaking his head."They believe it's tied to Voldemort though."The room became suddenly silent.The Dark Lord's name was still not used in conversation, especially not now.

"It's just so hard to understand," said Hermione softly, resting her elbows upon her knees and her chin in her open hands."I mean, he had the _Avada Kedavra _hexes all over him, and yet his wrists were slit to the point where there was significant blood loss.Why would somebody bother…?"She trailed off.

"Never mind that!" Ron exclaimed, "He was an Auror!They're supposed to be invincible!If You-Know-Who's got a one up on the Aurors then we're all screwed."

The cabin lapsed into silence once more and Harry sighed.Somewhere, Voldemort sat waiting.Biding his time.Plotting for when Harry would next fall into his clutches so he could finish him off._Why me?_Thought Harry, _What have I done to deserve this?It's not my fault I survived._As far as he knew, Harry was Number 1 on Voldemort's "to kill" list, and he, for the life of him, couldn't see what the big fuss was all about.He was just Harry, nothing more special about him than any other student at Hogwarts.But then did other Hogwarts students have dreams about giant razor sharp jaws closing in on them?Harry shuddered and prayed that this dream was not prophetic.What did it mean?Perhaps he would say something to Dumbledore.

"Harry?"Hermione's soft voice brought him back to earth."I never got a chance to tell you- congratulations on making prefect."

Harry beamed.The looks on the Dursleys' faces were priceless when they read _that_ letter."Same to you," he replied.There was no doubt in his mind that Hermione would be a prefect.

Their eyes moved slowed to Ron who smirked in response."Who do I look like?Percy?" he said."I'm glad I'm not a prefect.I hope this doesn't mean that we're not going to have fun breaking rules anymore or that anyone is going to get on their high horse."His gaze fixed on Hermione.

"No way," replied Harry."We're still gonna be ourselves."

"Well…" Hermione protested, but quickly shut her mouth.They both knew that Dumbledore had been extremely generous in giving them their positions after all the school rules they had broken in the previous four years.

"We won't desert you, Ron," Harry said confidently.

"Good," said Ron with a smile."Enjoy your bathroom privileges."

"And sharing them with Malfoy," Hermione sputtered.

"What?" cried Ron, "How do you know he's a prefect?"

"He was wearing his badge," Hermione brushed some loose strands of hair out of her eyes."It was on his left shoulder.You must have missed it in your… anger."

Ron gaped at the floor."How could Dumbledore have given that rotten scum prefect status?"

"Well, rotten scum that he is, he does have some of the highest marks in Slytherin House," Hermione said matter-of-factly."He's quite clever, really."

"And how in the world do you _know_ all this?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I just _do_, ok?"

"Five minutes until we pull into the station," the raspy voice of the all-call interrupted."Gather all of your belongings and prepare to unload."

Harry folded his newspaper clipping and placed it back in his pocket.Pulling his luggage down from the overhead compartment, he checked on Hedwig, who dozed quietly in her cage next to Harry.

Hermione retrieved her monstrous ginger cat Crookshanks from atop her luggage and proceeded to give him a thorough petting, complete with cooing noises, as though she were talking to a baby and not a small lion.Ron looked on in horror.

"That cat's_ still _a bloody menace," he whispered to Harry.

"Oh hush," replied Hermione."You're just jealous."

The train slowed to a stop in Hogwarts Station and Harry looked out at the magnificent castle he called home.Warm lights lit the turrets that seemed to touch the sky, and lanterns floated in the lake like lily pads to help guide the students across it.Standing up, Harry gripped his luggage in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione called as she exited the compartment after him, "how many scrolls did you write for Snape's summer assignment?"

"Two," Harry answered over his shoulder."That's what he asked for, right?"All he needed was for his most dreaded class to start off on a bad foot.

"Yeah," said Hermione distractedly, "but I did three.Just to be sure, you know."

Ron stopped dead in the corridor."We had Potions homework?"A confused look crossed his face.

"Yes," said Hermione in exasperation."Don't you remember?Ancient uses of dragon's blood and how it is applied today?"

A faint look of remembrance filled Ron's eyes, then panic."Oh," He gulped."Bloody hell!"The trio stepped out of the train and Ron grabbed Hermione's robes."Hermione!" He gasped, "I completely forgot!You have to let me copy you!"

"Absolutely _not_," she replied, wrenching herself free from his grip."I'll help you write it, but Snape would realize right away if you copied mine."

Ron sighed."Great," he moaned, looking down at his rumbling stomach."Guess I'm not eating tonight."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione pushed their way through the crowd of students, waving happily at the ones they knew.Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were going on about some quidditch match they had been to, while Neville Longbottom looked lost as usual, dragging his luggage on ground and holding the cage of his toad Trevor.

"All first years o'er here!" Boomed Hagrid, as the young children looked ridiculous gathering around his massive form.He waved at Harry, who smiled back.

Reaching the lake, the three companions piled into one of the horseless carriages and shoved off for the castle.The night air was muggy from the previous week's storms, and it fell heavily on Harry's cheeks.The wind rustled his hair and blew it back from his forehead, caressing the scar that had brought him all this.But as he looked up at the castle, a feeling of warmth replaced the cold pit that had formed in his stomach since awakening from the dream.

He smiled to himself.He was safe.He was home.

~*~*~

English translation in order:

"Oh Fortune,

like the moon,

ever changing,

always increasing,

or diminishing;

detestable life,

now is harsh,

and then it playful,

nurses the mind's pain,

and destitution;

power,

it dissolves like ice."

So did you like it?Comments?Concerns?I appreciate all forms of feedback.Thanks!


	3. Dinner and Other Fiascos

Disclaimer:  Same as front.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this.  I really really appreciate it!  Thomas Riddle and Heatherella you are extremely generous in your lengthy compliments/critiques and I thank you greatly!  (PS, Heatherella, this chapter's even longer. Lol.)

And now…

Chapter 3:  Dinner and Other Fiascos.

_"When she woke in the morning,_

_She knew that her life had passed her by._

_And she called out a warning,_

_'Don't ever let life pass you by.'"_

_-Incubus_

            The colorful banners of the four school houses adorned the Great Hall, the illuminated sky-ceiling above vast and dark.  Ron rushed to the table decorated with red and gold ahead of Hermione and Harry, tightly gripping two pieces of parchment and a quill.

            Hermione shook her head.  "Honestly," she lamented.  "How could he forget?"

            They approached they table and Hermione immediately sunk down in the empty seat next to Ron.  "I'm going to help him finish his assignment," she told Harry.  "Sit there."  Her outstretched forefinger pointed to the seat across from them.

            _She practically ran for that seat, _thought Harry as Hermione leaned over Ron's furiously writing hand.  _No matter._  He strolled to the front of the hall and rounded the table to get to the other side, eyes fixing on the teacher's table before him.

            The usual suspects greeted him:  diminutive Charms professor Flitwick chatted happily with Herbology professor Sprout.  Divination professor Trelawny was predictably absent.  (Oh _darn, _thought Harry.)  Hagrid and Professor McGonagall's seats were empty as they were attending to the first years.  Meanwhile, in the center of the table, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, sat alone in silent thought.  His eyes were squinted behind his half-moon spectacles as he stared straight ahead of him at virtually nothing at all.  Harry always wondered what thoughts swirled around the old man's head under the cascade of white snow that flowed down his back.  But Dumbledore was not easy to figure out.  Perhaps someday…

            A giant black something swooped behind Dumbledore, catching Harry's eye.  It was much to his dismay to discover it to be Severus Snape, Potions Master, and Harry's most despised teacher.  The sour sneer that crossed his face looked as though it hadn't let all summer.  He sat in his chair two down from Dumbledore, black beady eyes scanning the room from underneath his mess of greasy black hair.  It wasn't so much that Snape gave his students stupid busywork in class, or took points away from Gryffindor for ridiculous reasons.  No, Harry hated him because he had made it personal.  Snape didn't want Harry dead, but it would be wrong to say that he would be hurt to see him suffer.  _Miserable git, _Harry said to himself, and tried to push him from his mind.

            This proved rather easy because of the scene that occurred behind Snape's back.  Two ladies, both young, stood talking heatedly about something.  One had brown wavy hair tied back in a ponytail and her eyes were sad beneath her black-rimmed glasses.  She wore a Hogwarts robe with the school seal on the breast and a plain tie like a first year pre-sorting, though she clearly was not.  The other girl was obviously older, her long honey-colored hair hanging straight down, except for two little clips that held it back at her ears.  Her hands were on the shoulders of the younger one, patting her every now and then, and eventually grabbing her in a big hug.  The younger one tried not the cry as she clutched the other's sapphire blue dress with matching cloak.  

            Mother and daughter?  The older one didn't look _that_ old.  _Sisters, perhaps, _thought Harry.  _But what are they doing up there?  _Was she the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?  No way.  The girl appeared to be in about her early twenties, far too inexperienced to be a professor.  Then it occurred to him:  who _was _the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?  Harry scanned the table looking for an unfamiliar face, and almost missed the most obvious candidate, whose familiar face was not in the right setting.  Sitting two down from Snape, looking extremely nervous with his long red hair brushed neatly into a ponytail, was none other than Bill Weasley.  Harry just stared for a moment, shocked.  "No way," he breathed, as his senses recovered and he rushed around the table.

            "Ron!" He called as he collapsed in his seat.  "You have to look!"

            Hermione glared up at Harry as Ron's hand kept flying across the page.  "Can't you see this is important?" she snapped.

            "So's this," Harry cried.  "Look!"

            Ron put down his quill and gazed at the teacher's table.  "What?" he said with a shrug.  "I don't see anything so…"  Ron stopped suddenly and his face went white.  "No!"  His head turned sharply to Harry.  "What is he doing here?" he cried in a panic.

            "New Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I guess," Harry replied.

            Ron's face was the color of sour milk and its expression seemed as though he had drank some.  "How come mum didn't say anything?" he squeaked.

            "Wanted to keep it a surprise I guess," Ginny Weasley leaned over Hermione to talk to Ron.

            "You knew?" he asked incredulously.

            She nodded.  "I heard mum and dad talking about it a few nights ago.  He's very happy but really hopes he doesn't screw up."

            Ron banged his head softly against the wooden table.  "And _why_ didn't you say anything?" 

            "Well, that look on your face is worth it," said Fred Weasley, two seats down from Harry.

            His twin, George, grinned.  "Think of it this way:  at least it's not Percy."

            Ron gulped.  This was true.

            "Besides," said Harry.  "Bill's the cool one, right?"

            "Yeah," Ron replied, "but that doesn't mean that he can't embarrass me in front of all Gryffindor or tell a personal secret or something."

            "Why would he do that?" asked Fred.  "Has he got something on you, Ronnikins?"

            Ron shook his head vehemently.  "No!  Of course not!  Why would he…?"

            "Enough!" interrupted Hermione, shoving Ron's quill back in his hand.  "Write!"  Ron went reluctantly back to his essay.

            Just then, the doors to the Great Hall flew open and in strode Minerva McGonagall, her tiny round glasses perched on the end of her nose.  Behind her, the first years marched two by two, looking in wide-eyed amazement at the great magical room that surrounded them.  They gathered in a group in front of the teachers, around the stool upon which the sorting hat rested.  Out of the corner of Harry's eye, he noticed the golden-haired girl give the brunette a quick kiss on the cheek, then hurry to the seat between Bill and Snape.  The brunette, meanwhile, joined the group of first years surrounding the sorting hat.

            Professor McGonagall woke the sorting hat with a gentle tap from her wand.  It stirred, then a great rip opened and the hat began its yearly song:

_"Well, they call me the sorting hat,_

_And I'm old as you see._

_But I can more than handle,_

_The task given to me._

_So put me on your head,_

_At the end of this song,_

_It'll take but a second,_

_And I'll tell you where you belong._

_Will it be Hufflepuff?_

_Are you hard working and loyal?_

_Then finding your kind here,_

_Won't be a toil._

_Or perhaps Ravenclaw?_

_For the clever and those quick of wit._

_If you're sharp of mind,_

_It's here you will fit._

_Or are you a Gryffindor?_

_Brave and just?_

_A student in which others,_

_Can put their trust?_

_Then maybe you're Slytherin,_

_Cunning and bold._

_By any means necessary,_

_You'll achieve your goal._

_It's really quite simple._

_Just give me a try, _

_And you'll like where you land,_

_Because the Hat does not lie."_

            The hat fell silent and became a tattered accessory once more.  Professor McGonagall unrolled the parchment with the list of students to be sorted.  She cleared her throat and looked out at the student body.  "First of all," she said.  "I would like to start out tonight with a special sorting.  We are very pleased to have with us this year a fifth year transfer student from Sean McMurphy's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Ireland, Quinn McAllister.

            Quinn's name rang from the walls of the great hall and beads of sweat dripped down her brow.  She hated large crowds and she especially hated being the center of attention.  If she could have curled up in a ball under the teacher's table, she gladly would have, but this trial seemed inevitable.  A confident smile from Miranda gave her a nudge in the right direction and she crept slowly to the stool and sat on it.  Her breath caught in her throat as she looked out at all the students, thousands there seemed, then all went black as Professor McGonagall placed the sorting hat on her head.  It covered her eyes and left her alone with darkness and the slow thudding of her heart.

            "Oh my…" said a whisper in her ear.  The hat was speaking.  "What you have seen… what you have seen…"

            Quinn's heartbeat raced.  "What are you talking about?"  She asked in a panic.  "What do you mean?"

            "Now, now," the hat replied  "That's not for me to say, but it is my job for me to tell you that you belong in…"

            "RAVENCLAW!"

            The room reappeared at once as the hat was removed.  Breathing a sigh of relief, she hurried over to the blue and silver table where the other Ravenclaws were busy hollering for their new dorm mate.  She sat next to a dark-haired girl with a dark complexion who smiled instantly.  "Hi," she said.  "I'm Padma Patil.  Welcome to Ravenclaw."

            "Nice to meet you," Quinn replied quietly.

            A pretty Asian girl across from her softly clutched Quinn's hand.  "I'm Cho Chang," she said with a tight-lipped smile.  "I'm also Hogwarts' Head Girl."

            "You should be glad you're a Ravenclaw," Padma said with a nod.  "We're the best house in the school."

            "You could be a little biased though," laughed Quinn.

            "Not at all," answered Cho, swinging her long black hair behind her shoulder.  "You heard the hat:  we're clever and sharp-witted."

            "Yeah," echoed Padma.  "Gryffindor is the only house that comes close.  Slytherin's the breeding ground for deatheaters, and Hufflepuffs are just plain stupid."

            Cho suddenly cleared her throat rather loudly and glared at Padma.  "Not _all _Hufflepuffs," she growled icily.

            Padma cringed.  "Oh… um… yeah.  Sorry Cho."

            Quinn shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the terse silence.  Apparently she had missed something.

            "Sorry."  Cho broke the silence, turning her almond eyes on Quinn.  "Perhaps you've heard:  last year during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, there was a boy named Cedric Diggory…"

*

            Across the room, Harry stared at Cho as she talked to Quinn.  He found it scary how the way her heart-shaped lips moved sent shivers up and down his spine.  She was out of his league.  And still belonged to a dead man.  He wrenched his gaze away from that table and back to his own.  The sorting was more than halfway through and Gryffindor had acquired three boys and two girls so far.  Ron, meanwhile, was still plugging away.

            "Ug!" he said in exasperation.  "Why are there so many uses for dragon's blood?"

            The rest of the table let out a whooping cry as the last girl joined Gryffindor.

            "Six!" cried Dean, "That's one more than Slytherin!"

            "Hey, cool.  We got the most this year," Seamus declared with a grin.

            The room grew very noisy as older students happily welcomed the first years, then fell silent as Dumbledore stood to make his annual speech.  He smiled.  "Welcome students, to another year at Hogwarts School.  We hope you will enjoy the time you spend here learning and making friends."  He paused and adjusted his glasses.  "There are a few people I'd like to introduce to you.  Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Bill Weasley."

            Bill's face turned the color of his hair as he gave the clapping crowd of students a wave.  Ginny beamed at her brother, but Ron simply rolled his eyes and went back to his work.

            _What's he got against Bill? _Harry wondered, but Dumbledore quickly interrupted his thoughts.

            "I'd also like to introduce Ms. Miranda McAllister," he said, gesturing to the lady in blue, who stood.  "She is here as a student teacher under Professor Snape, and I expect that you will give her the same respect you would any other teacher."

            Miranda nodded her head and smiled at the polite applause that greeted her.  Harry noticed that she was quite tall and thin, and that her satin dress fit her nicely.  Apparently, so had Seamus.

            "Check_ her _out!" exclaimed Seamus, clapping enthusiastically.  "Potions is actually going to be _fun _this year!"

            "If she's able to stand Snape," said George.  "I'll bet he makes a move on her and she's gone in a week."

            "Ew, gross!" cried Fred, wrinkling his nose.  "I don't think Snape even knows what a woman is anyway."

            Snape _was_ staring at Miranda, but not in the way George had suggested.  He glared up at her, a disgusted sneer twisting across his face.  This was not unusual for Snape, but Harry thought this wasn't one of his run-of-the-mill sneers.  It seemed to have a sense of frustration in it, an sense of annoyance.

            "Hm.  Must be her sister."  Hermione pointed to the Ravenclaw table.  

            Harry shrugged as Dumbledore cleared his throat.  "Lastly," he said.  "I'm sure that all of you have heard the news out of Ireland."  The room grew eerily silent.  "Due to the circumstances, this school is on high alert and all security has been heightened.  I can assure you that the Ministry is taking this matter extremely seriously, and we will do our part to ensure the safety of our students.  Trips to Hogsmeade will be greatly monitored, if they exist at all."

            A general groan filled the room but Dumbledore silenced them with a wave of his hand.  "Not to worry," he said.  "The Ministry is working on it."  But Harry noticed the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes.  "So for now, enjoy the feast."  And with a clap of his hands, food materialized on the tables.

            With a sniffle, Ron pushed a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes off his parchment while the other kids dug in.

            "Mmmm," said Dean, licking the potatoes from his spoon and leaning over towards Ron.  "These potatoes are _so good._"

            "Shut-up, Dean."  Ron didn't even look up from his paper.

            "I don't think I've ever seen Ron work so diligently on anything before," Ginny commented.

            "I don't need to give Snape a reason to lower my grade before the year even starts."

            Hermione gingerly picked at her roast beef while uttering suggestions to Ron.  "Don't forget to tell how it's extracted… no that isn't right… Ron, the syntax in that sentence is horrible!"

            Harry engrossed himself in a conversation about quidditch with Dean and Seamus.  He was so distracted, in fact, that he did not notice the black figure behind Ron until it was too late.

            "What, may I ask, is _that, _Weasley?"

            Ron and Hermione turned in horror to the owner of the cold voice.  Snape loomed over Ron, his narrow eyes burning the parchment on the table.

            "Oh… nothing, sir," Ron snatched the paper and tried to hide it under the table, but Snape's hand was quicker.  As his eyes scanned it, another shorter figure came up behind Snape's shoulder and stared at Ron's essay.  It was Miss McAllister, looking like an angel standing next to Snape in all his black.  All at once, Snape let the hand holding the paper fall violently to his side and glared at Ron.  "This was homework, Weasley," he said calmly.  "_Home_work, to be done at _home_ over the summer."

            "I-I know, sir," Ron replied, voice trembling slightly.  "I just forgot."

            Snape's look turned smug.  "Well," he said curtly.  "For forgetfulness, you get a zero for the assignment, and for cheating- ten points from Gryffindor."

            "But I didn't cheat!" cried Ron.

            "Professor, be reasonable.  The term hasn't even started!" added Seamus.  "You can't take away points yet."

            Snape shot daggers at Seamus.  "I can do whatever I like, Finnegan.  Five points for Finnegan's smart mouth!"

            By now, the entire Gryffindor table was up in arms.  Fred and George were on their feet.  Even Miss McAllister had a shocked look on her face.  Hermione tried pleading with him.  "Please, sir.  It's really not fair…"

            "Save it, Granger," he interrupted.  "Weasley, do you honestly think that I'm going to believe that you didn't have any help with _her _sitting next to you?  I've heard enough.  Good night."  And he promptly stormed down the aisle to the twin doors at the end, Ron's essay firmly in hand.

            Miranda's eyes flitted back and forth between Snape's retreating form and the table of irate Gryffindors.  "I'm terribly sorry," she said in her slight brogue.  "This is a horrible way to have met all of you… Good night."  She raced after Snape out the door.

            The Gryffindor table suddenly became very silent.  Seamus and Ron looked glumly at the table while the dishes were magically whisked away.

            "Five galleons says Snape makes a move on her," declared George.

            "You're on!" cried Fred.

            Ron's head hit the wooden table with a _thunk_.

*

            The click of Miranda's heels resounded in the empty hall as she hurried to catch up with Snape.  Her pencil-thin, two-inch stilettos were Muggle torture devices.  Snape was at least ten yards in front of her and going at breakneck speed.  "Will you slow _down_?" she barked, nearly twisting her ankle as she turned the corner.

            "Walk faster," came his reply.

            "I can't," she shot back.  "Look at these shoes!"

            He didn't.  He didn't even turn around.  Miranda had known Severus Snape for two weeks and they were already out for each other's blood.  Snape turned into the dungeons with Miranda right behind him.  They walked briskly on the cold stone floor.  The only sounds were Miranda's shoes and the swishing of Snape's robes.  Miranda exhaled and her breath formed a white cloud in front of her face.  They were going steadily underground.  She gathered her cloak around her body.

            "_Alohamora_."  The lock to the door on Snape's right clicked open.  Stepping in, he pushed the door shut behind him.  Miranda caught it and slipped in, closing it.

            "What is your problem?" she quipped, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to warm them.

            Snape pointed his wand at the fireplace.  "_Incindio._"  Flames shot from the tip of his wand, landed perfectly in the fireplace and set the tinder ablaze.  In a second, Ron's essay joined it.

            "The term hasn't even started yet," she cried.  "He would have finished it by the time he had your class."

            Snape removed his cloak and tossed it onto his desk chair.  "Obviously you have much to learn about disciplining students, _professor_," he sneered, black eyes burning. 

            "I am _not _a professor," she spat.  "Nor will I ever be."

            "Well I'm sorry if my job is not good enough for you, Miranda."  He was standing in front of her now, his greasy black hair tucked neatly behind his ears.

            "I didn't say that!  You're putting words in my mouth!"

            "I guess big bad Miranda will just have to be one of us little people for a while, won't she?"

            Snape turned his back on her and Miranda was momentarily speechless.  She didn't take shit from anyone, especially not obnoxious overgrown bats.

            "It's not my fault I'm here," she retorted.

            "So says Albus," Snape muttered in reply.  "Then whose fault is it that you're here?"

            Damn.  Miranda's eyes drifted to her feet, but she was too proud for that.  "My business is my own," she snapped.

            Snape was busy piling extra Potions textbooks onto the first table.  "Fine then," he replied shortly.  "You're my colleague, and I didn't choose you."  The last Potions textbook hit the stack with a _fwap.  _"You will meet me tomorrow.  7 A.M.  This room.  We will discuss the day's lessons.  Questions?"

            "Just one," Miranda replied.  "Why was I placed with you?"

            Snape's eyes met hers.  "What did Albus tell you?"

            "A whole lot of nothing."

            He couldn't help but smirk.  "Good.  That's all you need to know.  A whole lot of nothing.  Things are going on at this school that are above your head."

            A dull ache had settled over Miranda's chest and head and she felt extremely exhausted all at once.  "Wow," came her weary retort.  "What an fascinating life a teacher must lead."

            Something flashed through Snape's eyes, but Miranda could not read the emotion.  "Until you can talk beyond your twenty-three years, keep your caustic tongue behind your teeth."  He picked up his cloak from the chair.  "Good night, Miss McAllister."  With a flash of black, he vanished through his office door.

            Miranda left the Potions classroom and was instantly hit by the frigid cold of the hallway.  Her quarters were directly across from the classroom, complete with her own spare room for junk and small office for planning lessons.  Not like she ever would.  They would never make a teacher out of her.  Her room had a pleasant hearth and fireplace, but for the moment, she just felt like staring at the door to it, her back against the smooth wood of the classroom door, her breath an icy mist that floated in front of her eyes.  Working with that man was going to be absolute torture, but she wouldn't complain.  Dumbledore could have sent her packing instead.  "Thank you, mama," she muttered, but thinking of her parents was too painful.  Thinking about anything was too painful.  She didn't know how long she stood staring at her door, glancing at the stone walls that surrounded it, noting how they seemed to come closer, to box her in…

            She would be free soon.  She would be back at uni by next term.  Catch up wouldn't be too difficult.  Hogwarts was a rut on the road of her life.  Reaching out with numbing fingers, she gripped the cold metal doorknob of her room and entered, letting the door close softly after.

*

            Quinn sat alone on the window seat enjoying the silence.  The rest of her dorm was asleep.  She was happy to have been put in the same dorm as Padma and the other fifth year girls, all of who had been extremely nice to her.  Still, she felt out of place when they would lapse into one of their inside jokes, and even more awkward when the attempted to explain them.  She preferred the silence, the darkness.  Time to contemplate things.

            The Ravenclaw dormitories were high in a tower and a pain to climb to, but the view once there was beautiful.  The window in front of Quinn looked out on the lake, smooth and clear, link a giant mirror, reflecting the trees of the forest behind it and the stars in the sky.  The moonlight played on the treetops, shading everything a serene blue-white.  The world outside was at peace, just drifting…

            Quinn's eyelids drooped but she quickly snapped them open.  Getting no sleep before her first day of school was not the best of ideas, but she couldn't sleep.  She mustn't.  Otherwise she'd just wake everybody up in about an hour. They'd all hate her before morning.  It just wasn't worth it.

            She stared at the lake and its creepy stillness, until it seemed that she could see her own reflection in it- a lost girl sitting in a tower window.

            Her eyes closed again, but this time she did nothing to stop them, the lids were too heavy.  _Just for a second, _she thought, but was soon dozing with her forehead pressed against the windowpane.

*

            Here she was again.  Lying on the ground, staring up at something or someone.  The shape and face were blurry.  The only clear image was the wand the person held and the way their hand went all the way back before casting a spell.  The wand came forward again, issuing a blinding white light.  It smacked straight into her forehead, rocking her brain and sending an electric charge down her spine.  A white-hot pain consumed her body.  Her eyes fluttered open, and she howled so loudly that even Miranda in the dungeons turned over in her sleep.  

*~*~*~

Yay?  Nay?  Let me know.  

BTW:  The song I used in Chapter 2 is from the "Carmina Burana" by Carl Orff.  If you haven't heard that song, I strongly suggest you download it.  It's awesome!  Type in either "O Fortuna" or "Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi" and the movement should come up.  ;)


	4. The Firefly Urine

Disclaimer:  Same as front.

Thank you, thank you to everyone that has reviewed this fic!  Although there are few of you, your reviews are so strong that it's keeping me going.  (As well as my ideas and my muse Remus. ^_^.)

Chapter 4:  The Firefly Urine 

_"Just a day, just an ordinary day,_

_Just tryin' to get by,_

_Just a boy, just an ordinary boy,_

_But he was looking to the sky, and,_

_As he asked me if I would come along,_

_I started to realize that everyday he finds just what he's lookin' for,_

_And like a shooting star he shines, and he said_

_Take my hand, live while you can,_

_Don't you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand?"_

_-Vanessa Carlton_

            The sun peeked through the curtains of the Gryffindor common room, warming Harry's face and stirring him from his slumber.  Dragging himself to the bathroom, he felt relieved that his dream with the singing beast had not occurred again.  Perhaps it really was a one-time shot.

            He placed his glasses on the sink and turned on the tap.  Cupping the water in his hands, he splashed it on his face.  A freezing shock tingled his nerves and jolted him to full consciousness.  Looking up, he caught his reflection in the mirror.  His thick black hair stretched out in fifty different directions.  He tried to smooth part of it with a wet hand, but it just popped right back to the place it was before.  His eyes traced the line of his scar, not a light red gash in the morning cold.  _It's hideous, _he thought, _and with those stupid glasses no wonder nobody looks twice at me._  But that was entirely untrue.  Everyone paid attention to famous Harry Potter, just not the kind of attention he wanted or person he wanted it from.  Returning his glasses to his face, the room came back into focus.  _Just another day, _he thought, and grabbed his comb to tackle his hair.

            Ron's morning regime consisted of sleeping until fifteen minutes before breakfast started, then racing around like a lunatic attempting to look decent for the day.  "Morning, Harry," he called cheerfully as he hopped into pants an inch too short.  "Sleep well?"

            "I did, actually," he answered, looking at his watch.  "You'd better hurry, Hermione'll get upset if we're late."

            Ron laughed as he pulled on his robes.  "She can wait till I'm good and ready.  It takes time to look this good, you know."  With that, he ran a brush through his hair once and pushed his bangs out of his face.  "Ok.  Ready."  He grinned and raced down the stairs, his hair still sticking up in the back from static.

            Hermione sat at a table in the common room, impatiently tapping her foot.  "What _took_ you so long?" she cried, standing up.

            "Well, _I _was ready…" Harry trailed off.

            Hermione glared at Ron.  "What?" he exclaimed.  "I need my sleep!"

            "Your hair's a mess."

            "So?"

            She pulled her wand out of her robes.  "_Gelustotalus!_"  A strange mist shot from the end of her wand and struck Ron's hair.  Suddenly, it was perfectly bushed and styled.  It looked as though he'd spent hours on it.

            "Woah!" exclaimed Ron, rushing to the mirror on the wall.  "Where did you learn that?"

            "Hair care charms." Said Hermione with a smile, "Learn them.  Know them.  Love them.  How do you think I've survived the last four years with this beastly bush?"  She pointed to her own hair, which was neatly arranged in waves.

            They left the common room and reached the Great Hall just as the doors were closing (Ron, of course, had to stop and admire his hairdo in every reflective surface).  They sat, only to hear the beat of wings as the owls brought the day's letters and newspapers.  Hundreds of birds swept through the Great Hall, dropping things on their owners, who were so used to catching them that few even bothered to look up.  Hedwig dropped a letter in front of Harry.  Glancing at the unmarked envelope, he knew instantly that it was from Sirius Black.  Excitedly, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter:

_"Dear Harry,_

_            Glad you're away from those rotten Muggles?  Dumb question, I know.  Hope everything's going ok at Hogwarts._

_            Buckbeak and I have finally reached Remus's.  Of course, he was thrilled to see me, but the hippogriff was another story.  Needless to say, Buckbeak is enjoying his time outside._

_            I just wanted to send you this note to warn you to be careful and not to go looking for trouble.  These times are extremely dangerous, as I'm sure you've been told, and I know you know better than to do anything foolish._

_            Remus sends his regards and says that he can't wait to see you fly again… which may be sooner than he thinks._

_            Take care,_

_            Sirius"_

            Harry happily passed the letter to Ron and Hermione.  "They're coming back to Hogwarts?" Ron cried as he finished reading.

            "Shhhh," said Hermione, putting a finger to her lips.  "That's so dangerous for him to return here.  What is he thinking?"

            "I'm sure that Sirius has it all figured out," Harry replied in a low voice.  "He wouldn't just jump into something without efficiently planning first."  Harry folded the letter and tucked it in his pocket.

            Breakfast was pancakes and the trio hungrily stuffed them down.  When he finished, Ron picked up his copy of _The Daily Prophet _and let out a groan.  "Not another one."

            He placed the newspaper in front of Harry.  "Second Auror Death in Ireland, Ministry Clueless."  Harry's heart sank as he scanned the article.  "_…found dead, wrists slit, in a suburb of Dublin… no witnesses… _ Avada Kedavra _hexes found all over the body…Ministry is still mum as to who may be committing these murders._"  "But it's so obvious who's killing them," said Harry.  "It's Voldemort."

            Ron cringed visibly.  "But why won't the Ministry just say so then?"

            "Because they're still denying his existence," said Hermione.  "You heard Fudge in the hospital wing last year.  He doesn't even want to entertain the idea because it may ruin his career."

            "Slimeball," Ron muttered and Harry shook his head.

            "But Dumbledore told everyone last year, after Cedric's death," Harry said.  "So some people must know and believe."

            "The others are stupid then," Ron replied, and, ripping the article from the paper, put it in his pocket.  "What class do we have first?"

            "Potions," Hermione deadpanned.

            The three stood to leave when Harry was suddenly grabbed by an excited Angelina Johnson.  "I'm just borrowing him for a second," she called to Ron and Hermione as she dragged him into a corner.  Angelina was the new captain of Gryffindor's quidditch team, as well as a house prefect.  "We're gonna have our first quidditch practice tomorrow night," she said elatedly.  "We're also going to hold tryouts for our new keeper then.  Do you have any ideas as to who might try out?"

            "I don't know," Harry answered.  "I haven't heard anyone talking about it."

            Angelina's dark eyes glittered.  "It's gonna be so weird without Oliver.  I just hope I'll be as good a captain as he was."

            "You'll be great, Angelina," said Harry confidently.  "Everyone on the team loves you."

            She blushed.  "Thanks Harry… Well, if you know of anyone who you think would make a good keeper, just let me know.  I'd better get going.  I've got to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

            "Oh, lucky!" cried Harry, "Ron, Hermione, and I have…" He turned around to find his friends gone.  "Uh… Potions," he finished, puzzled.

            "Ooh, that sucks," said Angelina.  "See ya, Harry."  With a wave, she left the Great Hall.

            Harry followed her out but turned towards the dungeons.  _Why _did_ they just leave?_ He thought as he opened the door to Snape's classroom.  He was the last to arrive, but wasn't late, though Professor Snape glared at him nonetheless.  He plopped into a chair next to Ron and Hermione.

            "Sorry we left you," Ron whispered.  "Hermione thought we'd be late."

            Harry nodded and glanced around the room.  To his amazement, he was not greeted by a slew of arrogant kids with green and silver ties.  No, the group that sat across the aisle from him wore blue and black.  _We actually have a class with the Ravenclaws! _Thought Harry excitedly.  This was almost too good to be true.  Now Snape wouldn't be able to torture the Gryffindors nearly as much.  By the exceptionally sour look on Professor Snape's face, Harry could tell that he'd realized this as well.  Behind Snape sat Miss McAllister, leaning her head against the only window in the classroom.  Every few seconds, her eyes would close and she would snap them open again.  Despite the weary look on her face, she was dressed impeccably in a white blouse and black pants with a black work robe covering it.

            The class started and Professor Snape droned on as he usually did.  The students passed up their essays (Ron just scowled) and Snape collected them, dumping them on the table in front of Miss McAllister.  She picked up a quill and was about to unroll the first scroll, when a deadly look from Snape caused her to drop her quill.

            Professor Snape lectured for a half-an-hour on the uses of a glow-in-the-dark concoction, then instructed the students to make one themselves.  Hermione reluctantly paired herself with Lavender Brown, since Lavender's usual partner partner, Pavarti Patil, had scurried across the room to pair with her twin Padma.  Harry and Ron gathered the ingredients for their potion and hovered over their cauldron.

            "What is the point of this?" said Ron, pouring a bit of firefly urine into the cauldron.  "I mean, _when _am I ever going to use this?"

            "If you're stuck some place dark, I guess."

            "Oh of course.  I'm going to spend all this time making a potion instead of just grabbing my wand and saying _Lumos._"

            Across the room, Quinn was paired with a girl named Wanda Delaney, who had bushy blonde hair.  Her head nodded as she added her root of asphodel.  She had, of course, woken up screaming halfway through the night and awakened the entire dorm.  She was stupid to have thought that she wouldn't have the nightmare- the nightmare she couldn't even remember.  It had been happening to her for over three weeks and she still hadn't been able to recall more than a minute of the dream.  The girls had been very kind to her after their sudden awakening, but Quinn could tell that they were slightly annoyed.  And it was bound to happen again.  What was she supposed to do about this?

            Miranda, meanwhile, had grown bored of sitting in the corner while Snape pretended she didn't exist, and decided to walk around the room and see how the kids were doing.  She approached a pair of Gryffindors, one of whom was the Finnegan boy Snape had yelled at the previous evening.  He grinned up at her and pointed at his potion.  "Good morning, Miss McAllister," he said cheerfully.  "Are we making our potion right?"

            Miranda froze and stared at the cauldron.  A cold sweat broke out over her forehead.  "Um… yes," she stammered.  "That's excellent… uh…"

            "Seamus Finnegan," said the boy proudly.  "And this is Dean Thomas."

            "Nice to meet you," she replied.  "That's a lovely brew you've got there, boys."  

            _Escape!  Now!  _Miranda moved quickly to the next table where a redhead and a boy with black hair and glasses were engrossed in quiet conversation.  She jumped as she recognized him as Harry Potter, having completely forgotten that he attended Hogwarts.  A million-and-a-half questions popped into Miranda's mind but she checked them all.  Everyone would wonder if she started asking strange questions.  With a sigh, she moved on.

            Quinn stood from her desk.  "I'll go get the firefly urine," she told Wanda and walked to Snape's desk.  He glanced up at her with cold black eyes as she grabbed a vial of firefly urine.  She turned quickly to avoid his malevolent stare.  Her head spun from her lack of sleep and the putrid smell of the firefly urine.  She stumbled forward, completely oblivious to Seamus's transfiguration book sitting in the middle of the aisle.  It caught her foot, and she felt her body launching forward, the vial slipping from her fingers.  She hit the ground first, then the vial smacked the stone floor, glass exploding, and the firefly urine, spreading out in a green, glowing mess.

            Snape was on his feet in an instant and hovering menacingly over Quinn.  "Do you know how _expensive _that stuff is?" he growled.  "And how _difficult _it is to clean up?  Stupid clumsy girl."

            "Hey!"  Miranda's kind smile was replaced with an angry glare in two seconds.  "Don't you dare talk to my sister that way!"

            "She's my student and I'll talk to her however I want," he shot back.  "Ten points from Ravenclaw for the younger Miss McAllister's carelessness."

            The room was dead silent and the ground beneath Quinn's stomach grew colder.

            "But it wasn't her fault," said a black-haired boy with glasses who sat in the chair above her head.  "She didn't see Seamus's book in the aisle."

            "Did I ask for a commentary, Potter?" hissed Snape.  "Another crack and I'll take more points from Gryffindor."

            Suddenly a hand reached out and picked up Quinn's glasses, which had landed inches from the spilled firefly urine.  Another hand then clutched hers and pulled her to her feet.  The black-haired boy handed her the glasses and placed them on her face.  _Harry Potter!_  Just the person she hadn't wanted to bother.  "Thanks," she mumbled, turning bright red.

            "Don't mention it," he replied.

            A bundle of rags fell at Quinn's feet.  "Get cleaning," Snape said and sat down at his desk. 

She sunk to her knees and was shocked as Harry followed her.  "Oh," she cried, "you don't have to…"

"I don't mind," he said, grabbing a rag.  "It's better than making Snape's stupid potion."

They wiped up the firefly urine, which turned the rags, as well are their hands in spots where they chanced to get it, a neon yellow.  Miranda came over with an empty bucket to put the dirty rags in.  Squatting, she patted Quinn on the head.  "Don't you worry about it,' she said soothingly.  "It was just an accident."  Quinn didn't even look up from her scrubbing, trying not to let the angry tears in her eyes fall.  Miranda mouthed a silent "Thank you" to Harry, then went back to her table in the corner, giving Snape a look that would have curdled milk.  She marveled at how one man could be so utterly rude.

The class ended and the floor still glowed.  As the students got up to leave, Ron looked down on Harry and Quinn.  "I'll meet you guys there," said Harry.  Ron shrugged and trotted off with Hermione.  Harry rubbed the floor harder, but the glow still remained.

"That's good enough," said Snape, still grading the summer essays.  "The floor will glow for a good week, as will your hands."  Harry stood, grabbed the bucket, and placed it on Snape's desk.  He picked up his things and headed for the door, Quinn behind him.

"Bye Miranda," she called.

"Have a good lunch," her sister replied as Harry shut the door.  They walked side by side, Harry glancing at his yellow hands.  "Pity we're not in Hufflepuff," he said.  "We'd get awards for house pride."

Quinn giggled and pushed her glasses up her nose.

"Oh by the way," he said, "my name's…"

"Harry Potter.  I know."  She finished.  Of course.  Everyone knew who he was.

"Yeah…" Harry trailed off.  "You're name's Quinn, right?"

She nodded.  "And Miss McAllister is my older sister, if you couldn't tell."

"I suspected that," Harry replied.  "Poor thing, stuck with Snape all the time.  Now you see why we all hate him."

"What an ass, seriously."  Quinn knitted her eyebrows and stared at the floor.  "I was just so tired that I didn't see the book.  I guess it was my fault…"

Harry's eyes scanned Quinn.  She had the same build and structure as her sister, but different features, the most obvious being her brown hair and glasses.  They were very much alike other than that, Harry noticed, except for the minute observation that Quinn's lips didn't turn up in quite the same way that her sister's did.  "Snape is just out to make everyone's lives miserable," Harry told her.  "Don't let him get to you."

Quinn smiled.  "I'll try not to."

They walked in silence for a bit, until Harry became uncomfortable.  "So… you guys are from Ireland?"

"Yeah.  Dublin."

"Why did you guys leave?"

The look on Quinn's face clearly indicated that Harry had touched a nerve.  "Oh…" she stammered.  "Well, my sister couldn't get an internship at McMurphy's, so we had to come here."

_What about your parents? _ Thought Harry, but decided not to ask.  "Oh.  She must really like Potions."

"Yeah." Quinn replied distantly.  "She has a great passion for Potions.  Alchemy really."

They stepped into the Great Hall and stopped in front of the open doors.  "Well, thanks for helping me," she said.  "It was nice meeting you."

"You're welcome." He replied.  "You'll have to meet my friends Ron and Hermione."

Quinn's eyes lit up.  "Sure.  I'd like that."

"Ok," answered Harry.  "Guess I'll see you later."

Quinn waved and they parted ways.  Harry sat down across from Ron and Hermione who were demurely chewing their turkey sandwiches.  "That was nice of you," Hermione commented.

"Thanks," said Harry, grabbing a sandwich.  "She seems nice.  Kind of sad and quiet though."

Ron shrugged.  "What did Angelina ask you about?"

"Quidditch," he said.  "The tryouts are tomorrow."

"Ohhh," Ron groaned.  "Why does it have to be a keeper opening?  I suck at keeper."

"Oh, you'll do fine," Hermione reassured.

Ron's eyes narrowed.  "No, I won't, Hermione.  This isn't just some test or something, this is my one shot to be on the team and I don't want to blow it!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" she snapped.  "I was trying to make you feel better!"

"Well, don't.  You're not very good at it."

Hermione had no response for this, so they both just glared tight-lipped at their lunch plates.  

Harry sighed.  Just another day.

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